The World According to Rico – The best sounds in the world

Have you ever noticed how certain sounds make you feel a certain way? They can make you feel relieved, soothed, hopeful, excited, content and even irritated.

Personally, I have sounds which just simply make me happy.

I love the sounds of the garbage truck parade on Tuesday morning. That’s when the friendly Kopcho crew descends on my part of town, waving and picking up our trash. I love the sound of the totes banging around and the beeping of the trucks as they back up. Once I hear them arrive, I’m ready with my leash and Mom’s shoes so we can hurry outside. Mom says she loves the sounds Kopchos make because that means the trash is gone. I love the sounds because it means the nice garbage people will wave at me and stop to say how cute I am. (The accompanying photo shows how I look when entranced by outdoor traffic).

I love the sound of the dishwasher running. I inherited this from my mom. It’s her favorite sound in the whole world. She says it is soothing to her, gratifying in a way. She has spent most her life without a dishwasher. As a kid, they didn’t have one until she was about 12 – so when that giant, mobile machine was placed in their kitchen, a whole new world opened up to her. She says she loved the sound of the washer as a kid, because that meant she didn’t have to wash them. And she loves the dishwasher she has in her house now, because it is sort of a beacon signifying the end of another long day and again, a testament to the fact she doesn’t have to wash them. I just like it because she likes it, and it usually means we have time to play before I drift off in another puppy coma.

I love the sounds that come from the top of my neighbor’s big tree. First, I just love to be under that tree because it’s the only place to hang out in the summer where you won’t start on fire in the heat. Mom says the temperature under that tree is 20 degrees below the actual Fahrenheit. I don’t know if that is technically true, but we both appreciate the shade it provides. And we appreciate our neighbor who said I can relieve myself there as much as I want and as often as I want. He doesn’t care. That said, back to the sounds. I spend a lot of time under that tree so when interesting sounds started coming from the branches, I became enthralled. Mom doesn’t know what the sounds are coming from – are they birds, insects or squirrels? We don’t really know for sure. But they are rhythmic, calming and intriguing. I could spend the whole day, lying on the grass and listening to their music. We don’t know if they are threatening me, scolding me, warning me or welcoming me – but so far, so good. Just blissful cool with a melody of mystery.

I love the sounds of sleep. When the folks snore, I am in heaven because I know they are near and belong only to me. Mom loves when I dream and lightly bark in my sleep, because she’s so happy I joined the household. Dad secretly enjoys when I put my wet nose near his unconscious head right before I let out a yap to signal it’s time for him to get up. He says I need to calm my jets, but I know he’s actually quite pleased to hear my shrill plea for attention, even if it is in the middle of the night. I think it’s his favorite sound, even if he says it isn’t.

I love the sound of my Aunt Leenie’s voice at the front door. She calls out, “Rico, where’s my little buddy?” and I nearly lose my mind. I do acrobatic moves and grasp as hard into her work pants as I can, because I never want to let her go. Her voice is distinct and the sound means I’m about to get a massage, kiss and an overwhelming sense of love.

As I dictate this column to my mom, while she types this for me (because I’m a thinker, not able to use a keyboard because of the paws), she says she wants to add sounds she loves.

The sound of the ocean, as the waves come in while the sun comes up.

The sound of the chickens talking to each other and her, begging for dried worms and welcoming someone to come get their eggs.

The sound of the little windmill turning in the neighbor’s yard. The sound is charming and friendly, as well as indicative of the breeze blowing through to help alleviate her sweating in the garden.

The sound of her mom’s old wooden windchimes. They aren’t obnoxious, because they are made of wood, and they make this happy clamor which reminds her of being a kid.

The sound of Frank Sinatra music. The familiar instrumental music paired with his crooning reminds the folks of Dad’s grandparents, Mark and Cassie. Mom says the sound makes her smile because she can picture them dancing in heaven.

The sound of someone popping open a champagne bottle. It invokes excitement because it signifies celebration of a life event, a moment to be remembered.

The sound of the clothes drier. No special reason, except it means her detested chore of laundry is nearly finished.

The sound of the ceiling fan in the bedroom. She’s in her 50s. No explanation needed.

The sound of buzzing bumblebees in her marigold field. It means pollination is alive and well in this world, even though scientists keep saying it’s ended due to global destruction. It also means the blooms are covered in butterflies – the bees and the butterflies come hand in hand.

That’s the end of Mom’s list. She said I can add one more of my favorites.

That’s easy. It’s the sound of her fingers tapping on those keys. I love to lay by her feet (I’m now too big to lay on them and still fit by her chair), lovingly listening to her writing stories and transcribing my little Monday column for this website. I guess the sound of her typing means she’s easily accessible to me, should I desire anything. And it means she’s close, should I just need affection. That’s a great sound.

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